


Come on, then. Come on.

by insomniainclined



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Canon Compliant, Extremely mild, I know, M/M, No worries, Take Me Home Tour, actually genuinely confirmed, also....., and arguably accidental, because ziam kissed, but only briefly, exactly like this, i drown it in fluff, it has been confirmed, it's mild though, sorry it's been a rad few days, that one came out of left field, what is the world we live in?, why are we so blessed?, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniainclined/pseuds/insomniainclined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear, at this moment, you mean everything" -Come On, Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on, then. Come on.

**Author's Note:**

> I hardly even ship Ziam as more than a bromance but Liam decided to drop this tidbit of information on us and I couldn't resist. Seriously, are these boys even real?  
> Anyways, this takes place on July 29th in San Jose, CA during the Take Me Home Tour. The arena I refer to is now called the SAP Centre because HP is cheap and couldn't keep up the cost of advertising but it will always be the HP Pavilion arena to me. Also, that date is not me speculating about when the Ziam kiss happened, that's just me choosing my own hometown out of a list of dates because I miss it. For those of you who don't know, it's about 45 minutes south of San Francisco.  
> Enjoy! xx

Liam is sitting on the steps of one of the back exits of the HP Pavillion arena. His feet ache from standing for so long. They’ve just got off rehearsal for tomorrow’s show. It’s nearing 9 on a late summer night and August is so close he can smell it in the way the humidity sits on his skin. The sun is setting over the San Jose skyline. It’s a new view for him. The last time he was here he only saw the University campus that was home to the event centre. He hadn’t seen the scattered skyscrapers or smelled the cooking grease from the food trucks. The orange glow from the setting sun lights up the windows of the city and their reflections sparkle through the fronds of the twenty-some palm trees clustered in the park across from the arena. He takes a deep breath of hot summer evening air and closes his eyes.

Liam hears the back exit door open and close behind him and someone sits down on the concrete step next to him.

“You need to talk to him,” they say.

Liam looks up to see Louis staring at him. His hair is out of his usual up-do and one of Harry’s beanies is pulled down to hide the fact that he probably hasn’t showered since before their Seattle show last night and he’s still covered in post-concert and travel grime. His glasses are falling down the bridge of his nose and he’s pouting, bare feet on the dusty bottom step of the exit that leads to a deserted parking lot. He resists the urge to tell Louis he needs to clip his toenails if he’s going to be walking around barefoot like that.

Liam doesn’t need to ask what Louis means. He knows someone needs to talk to Zayn. They’d just finished rehearsing the set list for the last time this evening and Zayn wordlessly made a beeline for the doors. Zayn’s been quieter than usual all week and it’s getting worse. He’s avoiding all of the boys as much as he can and it isn’t going unnoticed. Liam takes another deep breath but the stress doesn’t leave his hunched shoulders.

“Liam, please. He won’t even smoke with me.” Louis says. “He never turns me down. Something’s wrong.”

Liam gives him a tired smirk that’s really just a grimace with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to smoke with you. Maybe he’s decided to become an upstanding law-abiding citizen.” It’s technically a joke but neither of them are laughing.

“Liam.”

“Why do I have to do it.”

“You’re you.” And that’s really all it takes.

“Where is he?” Liam asks, and Louis smiles and stands up, walking down the last step.

“Bus 1. Thanks Li.” He says. He runs off toward where Niall and Harry have a mini game of footie going in the park across the street. They’re dribbling the football between the spindly trunks of the cluster of palm trees so it looks like a comically large came of crochet.

Bus 1 is parked at the other end of the lot. It takes one minute of Liam jogging alongside the far-too-smooth sidewalk around the arena before it’s even in clear view. The flaps around the underneath luggage compartment have been left open to air out the scent of exhaust that lingers no matter what they do. It’s evening so the wind is hot but the sun isn’t beating down anymore. The warm breeze picks up, swirling the dust that’s settled over this end of the parking lot so it scratches at his ankles. He slows to a walk so the sound of his sandals slapping on the asphalt doesn’t disturb the quiet balance that dusk has placed over the empty lot.

Liam could say that he’s agreed to go looking for Zayn to get to the bottom of things for the good of the band because he’s Liam Payne and he operates with the band’s best interests at heart. But he’d be lying.

He finds Zayn on his back with his knees bent and a half-full pack of smokes on his stomach. He’s lying in the underneath luggage compartment of tour bus 1. The luggage has been carried off and the compartment is empty, just a metal skeleton of supports making up the ribcage of the tour bus. The floor is dusty and it hangs in the air, lit up by the slanting orange light streaming in through the right side, lighting up Zayn’s profile. Liam sees him and knows he is in no way here for the good of the band. He’s here for Zayn and Zayn only.

“Hey mate.” Liam says, ducking his head and crawling into the underneath compartment on his hands and knees, making his way over to where Zayn is laying. Zayn’s eyes open and he makes a noise that could pass for a greeting if Zayn had been half-asleep, but the longer Liam watches him, the more he can tell Zayn is anything but tired. He’s buzzing. His fingertips are twitching slightly and his eyes are wide and zipping all over the place, never holding eye-contact with one object for too long, the way they do when he’s deep in thought.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks, frowning as he watches Zayn’s chest rise and fall with the deep erratic breaths he’s taking. “Are you high?”

Zayn shakes his head but Liam can’t tell which question’s been answered. He assumes it’s both.

Liam sits so his back is against one of the wider metal supports. It’s not incredibly comfortable but it lets him watch Zayn’s face as Zayn’s eyes continue to race as fast as his thoughts. He is chewing on his top lip and Liam wants to tell him to stop.

Instead he asks, “What’s up with you? What’s going on?” because that’s why he came.

Zayn holds his breath for a moment and Liam watches Zayn’s chest stop the rise and fall he’d been so captivated with. “Nothing, man. I’m fine.” Zayn says. Zayn is noticeably not fine.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well believe it.”

“You could at least try to convince me, you know?” Liam says, but he doesn’t really mean it.

Zayn shrugs. “Why bother, yeah?” He sits up and crosses his legs, facing Liam head on now. He sounds bitter but Liam can’t tell if he’s angry or not so he decides to push his luck.

“Zayn, please just talk to me. It’s just me. You know it doesn’t matter what you say.”

“Yes it does.” Zayn says, and normally his eyes would fall to his lap with such an admission, but this evening Zayn throws it out there like it takes nothing and his eyes are fixed on Liam’s as the words leave his lips. Zayn looks so sure that whatever is rattling around in his brain doesn’t deserve to be let out, but that’s all Liam can glean from Zayn’s relentless gaze.

Liam can usually read everything Zayn is feeling. He can usually see it flashing in the corners of his eyes. There's the anxiety and the excitement and the pure elation that sits with all five of the boys at any given moment, but then there are the things that are just Zayn’s. Like that sparkly bit in the top right corner of Zayn’s eyes when he’s drawing and he’s hit a flow where he’s really into it. Or that dull bit over the top edge of his eyes when Zayn mutters something sarcastic under his breath and the only way Liam can tell he’s kidding is because Zayn is crap at keeping a straight face and the corners of his eyes will crinkle in laughter if Liam just waits a few seconds. But not now. Right now, Zayn’s eyes are as blank as Liam has ever seen them.

“Zayn don’t do this. Don’t go into that whole mysterious bullshit. I know that isn’t you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Liam,” Zayn warns, scooting closer to where Liam is sitting and Liam can’t tell if that was meant to be a joke.

“Oh, fuck off. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“That brooding philosophical crap. I don’t have time for that. Something’s up. Stop being all deep and shit and just tell me.”

“What makes you think I want to tell you?”

“I’m your best friend.” Liam says. He doesn’t even think about it. Doesn’t question it. Of course he’s Zayn’s best friend. But once it’s out there he doesn’t feel so certain. “Right?”

He still hasn’t broken eye contact with Zayn and he’s pretty sure Zayn hasn’t blinked once. But he hasn’t answered either. Hasn’t even nodded. And suddenly Liam is sure he’s fucked everything up. Zayn sits forward, so he’s on his knees, and scoots even closer. The fronts of his thighs are touching Liam’s crossed legs at the knees and Liam resists the urge to pull him closer because this doesn’t seem like the time or place for a platonic cuddle.  

“Come on, then,” Zayn says. Liam isn’t sure what he means but he risks a glance down and sees Zayn’s hands balled in tight fists with his knuckles paling in contrast to his skin. He doesn’t know what he’s said to set Zayn off and they hadn’t taken any of their arguments that far yet but Liam is 95% sure Zayn is about to punch him in the face for calling him his best friend.

Zayn inches closer and Liam didn’t even know there was space for that. He’s afraid to breathe too deeply in case his chest expands too far and touches Zayn’s, like that contact will break whatever fragile thing is keeping Zayn from getting violent.

Liam gulps, anticipating whatever Zayn's next move may be, (he's expecting a punch but he still doesn't really know why) and the movement of Liam’s throat is enough to steal Zayn’s gaze down to watch, quickly, and then his eyes flick back up to meet Liam’s once more in that cold and terrifying stare.

“Come on.” Zayn growls. If it were anyone else, Liam would be coming at him fists tight and teeth bared. But this is Zayn. This is his brother. This is his friend. This is half of him, staring back and daring him to move. 

But he never gets the chance. Zayn’s eyes flick back down to Liam’s lips and Liam can see something in his gaze break.

Zayn’s jaw relaxes and his shoulders slump in some sort of silent defeat or resignation that Liam doesn’t understand. And then his lips are on his. He’d been expecting Zayn’s knuckles on his cheekbone or his open palm across his face. Maybe a knee in the gut. But not this. This knocks the wind out of him harder than any knee to the gut could.

But now he thinks he understands. So he closes his eyes and goes for it.

As Zayn’s lips close again around Liam’s very chapped bottom lip, Liam breaths out through his nose and feels it tickle the rise of his own top lip, imagines that Zayn feels something similar, and pulls back for a split second so he can dive back in, more prepared this time. He has no idea if Zayn is kissing him for the right reasons or for the reasons Liam sometimes thinks he needs, but for now he’s throwing reasons to the wind and taking whatever he can carry. And tonight he wants to carry Zayn to the ends of the earth and never go another day without knowing what it feels like to have his lips on his own.

Zayn’s tongue runs along Liam’s lower lip, fumbling over the chapped part that’s split and it starts to sting. Liam isn’t sure if he wants to tell Zayn to stop because it hurts or if he wants to get up from the floor of the bus compartment and crawl into Zayn’s lap and never leave because Zayn’s tongue keeps running over the split in his lip again and again and he’s managed to make pain feel like something entirely different, even when his teeth are nibbling at the flesh that hurts the most.

Liam is still wrapping his head around that dichotomy when Zayn pulls back. A string of spit hangs in the space between their lips. Zayn's eyes are locked on it and Liam can see his pupils blown so wide Liam can hardly make out the warm brown that surrounds them. 

In theory, Liam should stop and ask Zayn what they’re doing. That would be the logical reaction. That would be practical and reasonable and responsible. And Liam is reasonable and responsible. So he blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to take in the fading light the way they were before his best friend (definitely his best friend, yes) had decided to snog the literal life out of him.

"What'd you do that for?" Liam asks, but it sounds slower out loud than he intended it to, like he's a mechanical toy low on batteries or he's spent too long with in a closed room while Zayn had a joint lit. 

"Your lip was chapped," is Zayn’s flawless argument. His eyes are trained on that lip now.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry about that. It’s kind of bleeding a bit now."

“Is it?” And Liam knows it is. He can taste copper but he knows it probably isn’t very bad. It’s not a punch, at least.

“Yeah.” Zayn says, swiping his thumb out and pressing down on the part of Liam’s bottom lip that’s starting to swell a little. It hurts but when Zayn pulls away a few moments later with a stain of red on his finger pad and brings his thumb up to his lips to suck it clean, all thoughts of discomfort leave Liam.

In theory, it's sexy when Liam is finally overcome with desire for the boy in front of him, the one on his knees ( _on his knees, can you believe it?_ ) twirling his tongue around a finger that was probably perfectly clean a while ago and is now just a way to tease him. In theory, Liam lunges forward and it's dramatic and sexy and dominant and maybe even a tad bit romantic but who knows.

But when Liam tries to do just this, he smacks his forehead on one of the many metal supports in the underbelly of the tour bus and it's louder than it should be. Zayn also shouldn't start laughing as hard as he does. 

"I think-" Zayn starts to say, with both his hands now over his mouth as Liam glares at him, holding his pounding head in his hands, "I think this bus is too much of a safety hazard for you. Come on." He holds his hand out to Liam and smiles. "The boys'll probably want to order dinner soon. If we aren't there, they'll both give in to Louis and I am not up for Burger King three nights in a row." He throws Liam a sympathetic glance. "And I guess we could get you some ice for you head."

And Liam is happy despite the increasingly painful throbbing in his head and the sting of his lip, but the way Zayn's been acting the past week is still sitting uncomfortably in the back of his mind. Whatever was plaguing Zayn seems to have lifted but he has to be sure, because this is Zayn.  

"Wait Zayn?" Liam asks.

"Yeah?"

"You're okay, right?"

Zayn smiles, a big one, the real one where the corners of his eyes pull up, and something in Liam's chest feels funny.

"Yeah, all good Payno." 

As they walk through the parking lot, Zayn's finger slips itself through Liam's back belt loop and Liam doesn't know what any of this means, but he's glad he's starting to catch on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I really value the input of my readers and the only way I can write more of what you like is if you tell me what that is. Thank you for taking the time to read this and have a lovely rest of your day. xx


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